


Message in a bottle

by Shotgun_Cake



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Berlin lives, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa Lives, Fluff, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I took this way too seriously, If You Squint - Freeform, Kissing, Literally a game of Spin The Bottle with the gang, Lots of kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Spin the Bottle, Strong Language, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, in the monastery, it basically wrote itself though, the spirit of Berlin was possessing me the entire time, the topic makes it sound like it's crack but it's not, while planning the Bank of Spain heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotgun_Cake/pseuds/Shotgun_Cake
Summary: "I have an idea!", Nairobi announces, and Martín doesn't know her well, but well enough to guess that the twinkle in her eye is a bad omen. "We should play“spin the bottle”, you guys." At the group's lack of response, she adds. "It's a great team building exercise, I've played it a lot with past heist colleagues."This is a terrible idea.~~~OR: Martín has to suffer an entire game of Spin th Bottle with the gang. Andrés is sitting right next to him.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 53
Kudos: 282





	Message in a bottle

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing got away from me. I didn't plan for it, but here it is.
> 
> Takes place in the monastery while they're planning the heist of the Bank of Spain, so everyone is there besides Rio. And I added Berlín of course, because otherwise what's even the point?
> 
> ~~~
> 
> UPDATE: this story has been [translated into Russian](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9707895) by [purrfect_angel](https://twitter.com/angel_purrfect), so that's a thing that exists. Isn't that far-fetched?

They have been sitting in a circle on Tokyo's large bed for a few hours now, sharing drinks and stories of past lives in a dim, relaxed atmosphere. The entire gang is here, except for the Professor and Lisbon, undoubtedly enjoying the peace and quiet of a rare night without infighting.

Andrés has been enjoying himself, Martín is surprised to find, the alcohol surely helping him suffer through the subpar storytelling capacities of some of their colleagues.

Martín is sat by his side, as always, animatedly recounting a rather eventful evening of theirs at the Vienna Opera House.

"-and they ended up being swingers - just like I told you, by the way - so all I had to do, really, was proposition the husband in the men's room, while Berlín worked his charms on the wife and got her drunk on that godawful liquor. Anyway, we cracked open the safe in no time, got our hands on some sweet jewelry on top of that, and we were on our way out of the city before intermission."

"In their brand new Mercedes", Andrés adds for effect, in the midst of everyone's laughter.

Martín feels the squeeze of his hand on his shoulder. _Approval_. He liked the story, loved hearing Martín's rendition of it. Adventurous, Martín briefly rests his head on Andrés's inviting shoulder, basking in the warmth of that sweet, sweet validation.

"I don't think I can top that", Helsinki roars after another swig of vodka. There's an innuendo there, Martín wouldn't even need to reach that far to seize it, but he just lazily winks at him, focused on Andrés's warmth against his side.

"Oh come on, we're not calling it a night!", Nairobi protests, and Martín has to admit he yearns for her youthful energy. She's been on tequila the entire night, too. "I'm sure one of you guys still got a good story."

"Well, I could tell you about that time I seduced a gorgeous employee from the _Fabrica de Moneda_ into running away with the bank-robbers..."

Stockholm rolls her eyes at that, but she's still smiling at him. Martín can tell she likes him like that, all loose and soft and _romantic_. Not that he envies them one bit. He doesn't.

"Uh, gross!!", Tokyo growls as an empty plastic cup hits Denver square in the torso, interrupting their tender eye-fucking.

"I have an idea!", Nairobi announces, and Martín doesn't know her well, but well enough to guess that the twinkle in her eye is a bad omen. "We should play _“spin the bottle”_ , you guys." At the group's lack of response, she adds. "It's a great team building exercise, I've played it a lot with past heist colleagues."

 _This is a terrible idea_ , he doesn't say. _A wonderful and dangerous one._

"Were those colleagues fourteen?", Bogotá chimes in, and she dismisses him with a vague hand gesture.

"It's a fun game", Tokyo follows, and Martín can almost feel the energy shift, the straight men in the room collectively deciding to stay.

"Alright, children, that's my cue to leave."

Marsella gets up and gratifies them with a polite nod. He's been so quiet before, that many had forgotten he was even there. "Thanks for the drinks", he adds before closing the door behind himself.

"I think it's better for the cohesion of this team if Palermo and I stay out of this as well."

Martín would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it when Andrés spoke for him like that. _Palermo and I_. Always the pair.

Slowly, he starts to stand, waving his arms around for balance. God, the room is spinning. Andrés just holds his arm out for him with a grin.

"Really Berlín? You're no fun!" Nairobi calls, before turning her attention to their collection of discarded bottles on the floor.

"Afraid we're gonna find out you're a terrible kisser after all?" Tokyo taunts.

_Oh, if you only knew, dear Tokyo. What a wonderful and devastating kisser he is._

Before he can stop himself, Martín suggests:

"Let's at least stay and watch. As an engineer, I can assure you that statistically speaking, Denver is bound to embarrass himself at some point, and that's not something I'd want to miss."

Denver groans at that.

"Hey, that's not fair! You guys can't just gawk at us and not participate!"

Andrés appears to be pondering over it. Martín knows the decision rests in his hands, whatever he chooses, he will abide by it.

Andrés glances at him before he goes: "Fair enough. Witnessing your embarrassment may be worth a few unsatisfactory encounters."

Martín fights back a choke. _How drunk is Andrés right now?_

Tokyo blows kisses at them provocatively.

Nairobi finally emerges from her mountain of bottles with empty hands and a frown on her face. Finally, she spots what she's looking for.

"Oh, there it is! Helsi, _cariño_ , can you hand me that red _Corralejo_ over there? It's the thinnest bottle, it spins better."

Without another word, Martín sits back next to Stockholm, smiling when the bed shifts on his right and Andrés is once again next to him, way closer that he needs to be considering all the space left between him and Bogotá.

Martín has been trying _really hard_ this evening not to peek at Andrés too often, not to stare for too long at a time. The contradiction of him is too much too fathom. Dashing as always in his fitted suit, the dim light from the lamp casting a slight shimmer on the dark green of his jacket. And yet so mundane, almost painfully so, as he sits crossed-legged with everyone else. Composed, but a carefree smile adorning his lips. His back straight as an arrow, posture impeccable. 

Elegant, still, but laid back. _Open_. Martín wants to wrap himself around him and bury his face in his neck. To feel Andrés, relaxed against him, to live in this moment for hours. 

"Alright everyone!", Nairobi says with a clap of her hands, once she is satisfied with their setup. The slender, empty bottle is in the center of the bed, propped on a huge volume with the Bank Of Spain logo on it. _Safety Protocols_ is all Martín can make out of the title. A hardcover.

"Who's ready to start?"

 _"Palermo_ here insisted we stay, it seems only fair he gives us a bit of a show", Andrés casually suggests, his voice slow and calculating.

Good Lord, that voice is doing things to him. What has Martín gotten himself into?

Martín settles for sticking his tongue out at his friend, like the toddler that he is, before carefully bending over and getting his hands on the bottle with practiced ease.

"You've done this before", Andrés observes as the bottle spins and spins, fast and perfectly centered. It's not a question. He answers anyway.

"Engineering students are more debauched that you'd think."

The bottle finally comes to a stop, and it's pointing to Helsinki. Martín lets out a sigh of- _relief?_ Helsinki then. This is good. _Safe_.

"Hold on to your panties, _gordito_ ", he boasts. "I'm about to rock your world."

Martín has been flirting with him quite a bit for the past few weeks - though, to be fair, he's been flirting with everybody - so he's not surprised to elicit a shy smile from the Serbian.

He meets Helsinki in the middle, grabs both of his shoulders, and leans in. He enjoys the tickle of his beard against his face, and the surprising tenderness with which Helsinki kisses him back. There are hesitant hands on his face, and Martín could get used to this, could actually really savor it, if it wasn't for Andrés's gaze burning a hole in the back of his neck.

Martín pulls away when he hears Nairobi's catcalls, swelling with pride as he takes in Helsinki's flushed cheeks.

" _Damn_ , Helsi!"

"Enjoyed the show?", Martín smirks at her.

"When he's kissing you, you're silent", she snaps back. _The nerve._

Martín comfortably sits back next to Andrés, surprised by his lack of a witty remark. Is he really not gonna comment at all?

He's considering leaning on him again, but thinks better of it. Andrés looks- tense? Whatever the cause of his anger, Martín will not dig it out.

"Come here, Teddy Bear!"

Nairobi cheers, and Martín looks back at his colleagues. Helsinki's turn is leading him to kiss her, and she moves her head in an exaggerated way, like in an old movie, which the rest of the gang seems to find hilarious.

Helsinki laughs it off as well when she frees him from her vice-like grip, but it's Martín that his eyes find. If he survives this game, he just might pay him a visit later. A nice consolation prize.

A deep, loaded silence falls when Nairobi's spin has the bottle pointing to Tokyo, and Martín might be a raging homosexual, but he gets it. Andrés seems amused, at least, which is better than tense.

"Buckle up _guapa_ , it's happening!"

Nairobi takes her sweet time as she puts her hands around Tokyo's face, threading her fingers in her short hair, and Tokyo's arms find themselves around her waist. Their lips meet and they drag it out, really giving them a show. The sensuality of it all makes Denver and Bogotá red in the face, but Andrés thankfully just rolls his eyes.

Martín likes that he's not into it.

Then Tokyo gets a hold of the bottle, and for a second there, Martín feels nothing but dread as it slows down right in front of him. But it keeps going a bit further before stopping. Pointing to Andrés.

"Oh hell no!", she cries out, echoing Martín's own internal turmoil. At least, there isn't any chance they'll fall in love.

"Scared that once you get your hands on me, you won't be able to stop yourself?", Andrés taunts.

Predictable as always, Tokyo falls for the provocation, grabs the velvet lapels of his blazer, and kisses him angrily. She _eats_ at his lips longer that necessary, Andrés meeting each and every one of her attacks with matching intensity. It feels like watching two lions battling for dominance, but Martín isn't sure there will be a clear winner.

_On a day when Berlín and Tokyo share a passionate kiss, we're all losers here._

Andrés finally loses patience and pulls away calmly, hums as he takes in the sight of her, all bright eyes and feral, and sits back silently. His unaffected demeanor looks a lot like vindication.

Andrés flattens his jacket, seemingly more annoyed than anything else.

"Careful with that", he hisses. "This blazer costs more that your entire wardrobe."

"Just so you know, I wasn't impressed", she comments.

"Neither was I."

"Still your turn, Berlín", Denver reminds him, and he lets out an exaggerated sigh before going for the bottle.

It lands on Bogotá, who looks stunned, as though the idea hadn't even crossed his mind.

"We outnumber the ladies by two", Martín chimes in, because Andrés is about to kiss another man in front of him and he needs to fill this silence. "Of course there's going to be some guy-on-guy action, my friend!"

Bogotá just grunts and straightens up, tired, but not uncomfortable.

 _Oh_. If things don't work out with Helsinki, Martín might try his charms on that one. He knows Bogotá had many, many children with several gorgeous women, but he can also spot a bi vibe, and there may be something there. Interesting.

Andrés, on the other hand, looks perfectly unaffected.

"Our turn to enjoy the show, am right ladies?", Nairobi celebrates, and both Tokyo and Stockholm gratify them with a _wooooh_.

"Really?", Denver asks.

"You liked watching Tokyo and Nairobi, didn't you?", Stockholm explains, but there's no bite to it.

Bogotá is on Andrés's other side, so he doesn't need to move much to face him.

"Aren't you going to serenade me first", Bogotá taunts.

"Not tonight, _cariño_ " Andrés bites back, and he leans in to press his lips against his.

Martín's angle is terrible because he wants, he needs to see _everything_.

The back of Andrés's head does not give him enough information. Bogotá's large hand against his flushed neck is infuriating.

Martín manages to dive discreetly on the bed, catches a glimpse of a smile on Andrés's lips as Bogotá... are those teeth?

Fucking hell, if that's how Andrés treats an old friend, why Bogotá? Martín is _right there_ , and he knows how delicious he looks right now in his black t-shirt that's just this side of _tight_. This whole thing is blatant injustice.

Martín fights his disappointment. He's actually terrified of what would happen if _he_ had to kiss _him_ in front of all of these people. Thrilled too. But terrified.

Andrés and Bogotá finally put an end to his misery and sit back.

"I'd have preferred a song", Bogotá jokes, and he's not lying. Good. Then he adds for the group: "He might not look like it, but this guy is quite the romantic. I was at his last wedding, he has a beautiful singing voice."

"I resent the implication. I do look like a romantic."

"Of course you do", Martín reassures him with a pat on the shoulder, and when Andrés beams at him, he's okay again.

Nairobi lets out a very loud sigh and Martín just knows she has to make out with Bogotá. She drags it out, makes a whole show of forcing herself to do it.

"Try not to enjoy it too much", she says. "I saw how you just groped Berlín..."

Bogotá shows his hands in surrender, and puts them both behind his back. "I'll be the perfect gentleman", he assures.

So she's the one who has to do all the work, framing his face with her graceful, ring-covered fingers and dragging him down to her lips. It's surprisingly tame, and Bogotá's fingers twitch behind his back, but he does not move.

When Nairobi decides they're done, she gives him a weird look and exclaims "Bogotá!"

She doesn't make a joke. Neither does he. They're both quite flushed.

She's quick to spin the bottle again. It gets between Denver and Stockholm.

"I mean, it's kind of closer to me?", he mutters.

Stockholm raises one elegant eyebrow at him.

"Oh is it?"

"Maybe it's not! Hey, you decide, I'm fine either way?", he backpedals.

 _Marriage_.

"Of course you are!" Nairobi laughs. "Get in here, _chica_. I wanna get my hands in those curls."

Denver is actually _very fine with it_.

"Alright, ladies, it's the game!"

She rolls her eyes at her husband's antics and complies. The two lock lips for a bit, all soft and tender. Nairobi didn't lie about her curiosity for the blonde curls, she might as well be her hairdresser at this point.

When they're done, Stockholm shares a grin with Tokyo.

"Yep, she's a really good kisser", Tokyo confirms. Nairobi laughs and steals a glance at Bogotá, who discretely nods at her in agreement. If this guy plays his cards right, Martín would say he just might get lucky tonight.

Tokyo playfully pats Stockholm on the back. "Come on, keep it going _rubia!"_

Stockholm shakes her head and smiles at Denver before reaching for the bottle.

Andrés laughs, a blessed melody, and Martín realizes the bottle stopped in front of him. He can work with that.

"Don't worry lover boy", he says smiling at Denver. "I'm not gonna steal her away from you!"

"I'm not worried!", he replies, too loud and too fast. This might actually be fun.

Martín meets Stockholm's lips briefly, forces himself to make it last a bit longer, his arms limp against his body, but doing a fine job at feigning passion. He stops when Denver starts coughing. As he pulls away, Martín puts on a serious face and grabs her by the shoulders.

"You're a great girl, and I'm sorry you have to find out this way, but I think... I think maybe I'm not straight?"

She plays along, dramatically puts her hand on his, and goes "It's a bit of a shock, I think I'll need some time to get used to it."

He bursts out laughing. He likes her, he decides, as he makes a grab for the bottle.

 _"So?",_ Denver presses his wife as soon as she's sitting again.

"I mean, it was kind of-", Stockholm starts, but before she can finish her sentence, Martín cuts her off.

"Don't say anything honey, he's about to find out first hand."

Denver looks at him, confused, and Martín points at the bottle he just spun. His eyes grow wide.

"What was it you said to the girls? _It's the game!_ Huh? How about we give them a bit of a show too?"

He just looks at Stockholm uncomfortably.

"It's not that bad", she reassures him, and Martín isn't even offended.

"Don't you do anything weird, okay?", Denver says, tense all over.

"Do not tempt me", Martín taunts, because he's a little shit and it's _Denver_ so he kinda has to.

But he copies Bogotá's earlier move and puts both his hands behind his back.

"See? I won't lay a hand on you. You're not my type anyway."

Still, as he gets closer, he whispers "But _you_ can grab wherever you like, I won't bite."

Denver looks like a deer in headlights, and Martín traitorously seizes the opportunity to dive headfirst while the boy is stunned, kissing him passionately, and surprised to actually enjoy himself. Denver isn't the brightest, but he is good at some things after all. Muscle memory, probably. Unable to stop himself, Martín lets out an exaggerated moan against Denver's mouth, just to annoy the shit out of him. It's very effective.

Denver backs away, eyeing him angrily.

"Why are you like this?"

"Why did you use tongue?", Martín replies, and Andrés's roaring laugh surprises everyone and makes Denver red in the face.

"I didn't! _You_ used tongue!!"

Oh, this is even better that he expected.

"If I had, surely you would have pulled away _then_ , wouldn't you Denver?"

Andrés looks at him with a smirk and pats his thigh, his silent approbation of Martín's brilliant move to mess with Denver.

But then his hand stays there, and Martín, in his inebriated state, is finding it harder to focus on the actions unfolding in front of him. Andrés is unbelievably close. The smell of his cologne and the expensive wine he's been drinking fill Martín's nose, and he can't get enough of it. He doesn't dare to look the man in the eye, his own fingers twitching with the urge to caress Andrés's hand on his own leg.

He takes a sharp breath and tries to pay attention again. The bottle is now pointing to Helsinki, who has been snoring by Nairobi's side for a solid five minutes now. She looks at him fondly and puts a pillow under his head.

"Don't wake him, he's very tired", she explains. "Hasn't gotten a lot of sleep lately."

"So, do I spin again?", Denver wonders.

"I'll cut in", she kindly offers. "I'm the closest from the bottle."

"Alright!"

Denver doesn't seem disappointed in the slightest.

"You're always playing, Nairobi!", Tokyo whines. "My last kiss was with _Berlín_..."

_How dare she complain about the gift that was bestowed upon her? The whore!_

"You go ahead and kiss Denver then?", Nairobi offers, and Tokyo thinks about it.

"Never mind."

The boy actually seems relieved. Martín can't blame him. This woman is dangerous territory. A minefield, if he's ever seen one. The wife Denver has chosen for himself is honestly a delight in comparison. Perhaps, his only redeeming quality.

Denver leans in to kiss Nairobi, but his heart clearly isn't into it, still flushed that he is from his outburst at Martín.

"Really? You frenched Palermo, but you're giving me elementary school action?", she mocks.

"Why do you believe _him??_ He's the one who started to moan like a pornstar", Denver cries, and Martín almost takes pity on him. But in his defense, Denver did use tongue, so he's not gonna come to his rescue.

Nairobi starts crawling towards him, and it's only then that Martín notices the bottle pointing to Andrés again. Fantastic. What a great time he's having right now. Fun and games and no misery at all for good old Palermo.

Andrés traitorously brings his hand away from Martín's burning thigh, and delicately frames Nairobi's face with both hands.

Martín hates how good they look like that.

They share a slow, languorous kiss, and Martín cannot stop his memory from going straight to that fateful night, five years ago. This is the first kiss he's witnessed tonight that actually reminds him of it. He rubs his jaw nervously, can almost feel Andrés's fingers caressing their way up his cheek. 

When the two of them deem the kiss long enough, Nairobi gently pats at Andrés's face, shakes her hand in an exaggerated manner and goes "Careful people! Almost cut myself on that jawline!"

Some laugh at that. Martín doesn't.

She sits back next to Tokyo and adds:

"You know what Berlín? In another life, I might've gotten a few kids out of you."

That makes them laugh even more.

"I thought the _matriarcado_ meant you didn't have any need for men", Andrés huffs, but he's flattered.

"Oh I don't need them", she assures. "Doesn't mean I can't _enjoy_ one, once in a while."

She winks in Bogotá's vague direction, and Martín could swear the man almost fell off the bed.

Andrés spins the bottle again, and Martín knows before it happens that it's going to happen. He just does. His mouth goes dry and he feels a pull, deep in his stomach. That sense of foreboding you get before a devastating climatic event.

He should throw his body over the bottle like it's an activated grenade. Take the blow and pray Andrés is thankful for his sacrifice. He can't move a finger, frozen in place.

The room fills with gasps, and Martín stares at the traitorous bottle pointing straight to him. Not close to him, or vaguely between him and Stockholm. Right on him.

Martín is going to scream.

The girls start to giggle, as they have every time two of the men had to kiss, but Martín feels nothing but tension in his shoulders.

Andrés rests his hand on Martín's leg again, and he almost flinches. He was half expecting his friend to storm out of the room. They haven't kissed since that night. Years ago. Andrés never even addressed it, and Martín has let him. And now it's there again, a shameful mistake, tainting the air between them. So Andrés's touch of comfort is a surprise. Pulling himself together, Martín looks up at him.

Tokyo mistakes the gesture for Andrés refusing to comply, and snaps.

"Hey, don't chicken out now! I had to suffer through it, so should you."

"It's not that bad, Berlín", Denver surprisingly offers.

Andrés doesn't take his eyes off of Martin's burning face as he replies.

"I don't know why either of you would assume I will be the one to back out of this."

Martín feels his eyes widen. Andrés is smirking at him.

A challenge.

_Come on Martín, I know you want to._

_See if you can kiss me in front of these people and pretend you don't mean it._

Martín gets up on his knees, mirroring Andrés, and tentatively brings his hands to his jaw, the newness and the familiarity of it both hitting him at once.

_So this is happening._

Andrés moves even closer, crowding him. He peers at him through his half-closed lids, smirking as his eyes definitely shift to Martín's lips.

"I'm not going to be a _coward_ tonight. Are you?"

Before he can hold himself back, Martín crashes his mouth against Andrés's, his words unleashing within him a hunger he's been so good at repressing for so long.

He kisses Andrés furiously as he lets his hands wander through the other man's hair, still angry at him for throwing his own words back at him, yet in a state of absolute bliss.

This is way too much.

This isn't nearly enough.

The feeling of Andrés's lips moving against his. His breath warm against his face. The mere scent of him.

Andrés's fingers are on his neck, on his face, in his hair. Andrés is everywhere. Not letting Martín forget for a millisecond that this is _him_ , kissing his mouth and filling his senses.

Their bodies are pressed firmly against each other, thighs to shoulders, and Andrés's warmth is intoxicating.

Martín knows he's being transparent, not even pretending to hold back, but then Andrés bites at his lower lip, and all notion of hiding his eagerness goes through the window.

When Andrés licks at Martín's lips tentatively, he responds without a moment's hesitation, feels a warm, inviting tongue against his, and could swear he hears the other man groan into his mouth.

Andrés's lips are pliant and responsive under Martín's ministrations, and that alone might just be the biggest turn on of his life.

This is nothing like the last time Andrés kissed him, against the wall, demanding and desperate. This is Andrés letting Martín kiss him, allowing him to take control of it. Letting him know he's enjoying it.

"Fucking hell!!", Tokyo barks, and out of the corner of his eye, Martín can see Nairobi slapping at her arm for the rude interruption.

_Oh fuck._

Martín can feel Andrés snap out of it even before his lips leave his. In the tension in his jaw. In the limpness of his hands - both of which slowly slide away from Martín's cheeks.

_OH FUCK._

Andrés takes a sharp breath as he pulls away, and a freezing cold shower washes over Martín's entire body.

_God, what has he done?_

He has seen Andrés kiss way too many people for his own liking tonight, and he's witnessed first hand how good he was at pretending. His fight for dominance with Tokyo. His playful kiss with Bogotá. Hell, his passionate make out session with Nairobi just now!

What would make this any different? Just because Martín read something into Andrés's reaction, doesn't mean it was real.

And yet, when their gazes meet as he opens his eyes, he cannot stop his heart from skipping a bit, like the hopeful, treacherous little thing that it is.

"Enjoyed the show, ladies?", Andrés taunts, slowly backing away from Martín's space.

He leaves a hand on his thigh again, not breaking the touch completely. It's worse. Martín slides away from it. He needs an out. Now. His whole face is burning.

"Well, yeah. Not as much as you two, though. _Damn_ , Berlín!", Nairobi cheers. Andrés's smile is enigmatic, and Martín isn't sure what to make of the flush on his cheeks.

"Is that so?"

"Told you he was using tongue", Denver intervenes, unhelpfully.

Andrés looks at him with nothing but contempt.

"Actually, Denver, I'm afraid it was my doing, this time", Andrés casually provides as he's smoothing down the mess of his hair. Unsuccessfully so. He looks positively sinful.

Martín has no idea what to make of this soft, relaxed Andrés. He was prepared for anger. He expected coldness, discomfort.

Not _this_.

Not joking around and sharing details with the group. It's infuriating.

"So Palermo, was it everything you'd hoped for?", Tokyo nags him. "You've been waiting for this one for a long time, haven't you?"

But before he can think of a witty comeback, Andrés cuts in.

"I have no idea what makes you think this is the first time this has happened."

_What the actual-_

Martín hears a slap, followed by several gasps. Only the warmth of Andrés's cheek against his palm informs him that it was his doing.

Andrés looks at him, stunned and... amused.

Without a word, Martín is out the door.

"I believe this is my cue", he hears Andrés say as Martín storms away, his feet bringing him to the end of the corridor. "We're done playing for tonight"

Martín hasn't reached his room when he finds himself being pulled back, the strong hand on his arm forcibly turning him around to face a breathless, disheveled Andrés. His friend grabs a hold of his other arm, locking him in place in a tight grip. In the near darkness, he looks demented. Martín can barely bring himself to look him in the eye.

"Let go of me", he commands.

He's angry, he realizes. Completely furious at Andrés for being so casual about it, for debriefing their kiss with everyone as if it were the most hilarious thing that happened to him. For encouraging them, their laughs and their catcalls.

"You will not walk away", Andrés retorts, and it's an order if he's ever heard one.

The man tentatively lets go of both of his arms, and Martín wants to flee. Instead, he asks:

"What was that, Andrés?"

It's a whisper, but he's heard him.

Andrés drags a hand across his own face and sighs.

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it? When you insisted I play this ridiculous game. You were hopping for that?"

"For you to make a joke out of me?", Martín bites back. _A joke out of us._

"Never", Andrés immediately says. His reply is so fast, so sincere.

Now that his eyes have adjusted to the darkness, he starts to make out Andrés's face, and his eyes, bright, peering into his. Affection. Friendship. _Love_.

Martín is terrified to ask.

"It was real, wasn't it? You weren't putting on a show for the others?"

Andrés laughs. The beautiful sound echoes across the corridor.

"Of course not, Martín. Weren't _you?"_

Martín's brain short circuits.

Andrés, smart, beautiful, amazing kisser Andrés, thinks _he_ has been the one faking it? What, like Martín has _moved on_ from Andrés? Like he could ever stop feeling the way he's always felt when he was near him.

As if he doesn't already know. As if it isn't written all over Martín's face. His love and his devotion.

But no, Andrés _doesn't know_ , he realizes. He thinks _Martín_ is toying with him. There's a joke.

In lieu of a reply, Martín takes a step toward Andrés, then another, and crowds Andrés against the wall. He doesn't push him, but Andrés backs away all the same. So eager. Martín could scream. Andrés looks at him expectantly.

Slowly, tentatively, Martín leans his face toward him, brings his lips to Andrés's again. With none of the hunger and the artifice he showed a few minutes ago. It's just a short, firm press of their mouths.

 _I love you,_ Martín means to say. _Deal with it._

Andrés kisses back reflexively, lets him decide how to kiss him. It's tender. It's addictive.

When he pulls away, Andrés doesn't let him. He leans back in and kisses him again. And again. And again. With the same softness Martín just displayed. No tongue, no teeth. Nothing but years and years of love laid bare.

Martín feels tears prickling at his eyes and doesn't pull away. They're kissing until Martín can believe that they are. That they will, again.

"You're not playing with me, are you?", he can't help but check.

"I never was."

"And that's what it took for you to admit it? Five years and a fucking party game? You son of a bitch!"

There is no real anger to it, it's almost a whisper.

"Do you think, maybe, we could discuss this elsewhere. Preferably, somewhere private?"

That's what it takes for Martín to notice their audience, crowded up behind the frame of Tokyo's door. Far enough not to hear a word, but close enough to see, even in the dark, the position they're in. Martín ignores them, brings his eyes back on Andrés.

"What's a guy gotta do in this monastery to be taken to bed?" 

**Author's Note:**

>  _The morning after..._
> 
> As Palermo discreetly has his walk of shame back to his bedroom to clean up and change before breakfast, he stumbles upon Nairobi, who quite literally runs _into him_ as she's exiting Bogotá's room. They share a nod of acknowledgement, and both go on their merry way, never to mention it again.
> 
> It doesn't matter anyway, because Martín is absolutely _covered_ in hickeys and bite marks, that he made zero effort to cover up (he's actually wearing the most plunging v-neck he owns). He wears them like a badge of honor, and no one can look him in the eye for the entire day, nor at Berlín's smug fucking face.
> 
> Sergio chokes on toast when they show up at breakfast glued to each other. He's the only one who's genuinely surprised.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING  
>  I will reply to any and all comments, they are my lifeblood.  
>  Also, [please come yell at me on tumblr](https://shotgun-cake.tumblr.com/ask).
> 
> ~~~
> 
> [p4x-639](https://p4x-639.tumblr.com/) made a wonderful [colored pencil fanart](https://p4x-639.tumblr.com/post/620100974172930048/hes-thinking-about-what-he-did-the-night-before) inspired by this story and I still cannot believe it. 


End file.
